Being Human Clark
by MelanieMM
Summary: Clark finds out that being human isn't everything he thought it would be. Spoilers for Season 5, Arrival through Hidden
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1: Riding in the car with girls**

Being human sucks. There was no other way to describe it. At first every new pain, every new sensation was amazing, fascinating. He couldn't get enough of it. He grinned the first time he burnt his hand on a muffin pan, forgetting the need for an oven mitt; he laughed out loud the first time he cut himself shaving, chuckling while he dabbed at the blood oozing on his chin. But it was around the time he finished a jumbo size tub of popcorn directly after polishing off two hot dogs while watching the new John Woo film in Granville that the whole new experience of being human began to lose some of its shine.

That night Clark learned what over-eating truly meant, and what humans like to call an "upset stomach" was. He laughed bitterly at the name. His stomach was more than upset it was raging at him. His mother forced him to drink some chalky pink liquid that made him gag, promising that he'd be fine after 10 doses or so. He was very doubtful something that tastes so horrible would do anything but make it worse, but he took it obediently, ignoring the glint of amusement in his mother's eyes—she was actually enjoying it. As if reading his mind she answered the question he hadn't uttered.

"Well I never got to coddle you and feed you chicken soup when you were growing up. Let me indulge a little."

He smiled at her then, but inside he called his mother a name he didn't think he was capable of conjuring. But his stomach really did hurt.

That's when he seriously began to question whether disobeying Jor-el to take Lana to the hospital was worth all of this. Surely one of Lex's security team would have found her eventually. But he quickly admonished himself for thinking such a terrible thing. He made the right choice, absolutely…no regrets.

And he definitely didn't regret the one amazing wonderful thing they shared, that he probably would have been too frightened to try when he had his powers. A broad grin stretched across his face in the mirror, and his cheeks brightened just a little beneath the dark stubble, thinking about last night, and how he'd slipped out of Lana's apartment above the Talon just after 2am. He peered at himself closely and noticed that late night romp produced two perfect dark circles under his eyes.

He shook his head roughly trying to come out of his sleepy haze. He'd been standing in front of the bathroom sink for almost five minutes, with disposable razor in hand. So far every time he shaved he'd cut himself. But yesterday he purchased a new razor with patented 'comfort strip' that was supposed to be full proof against any nicks or cuts. Clark stared at the new device encased in all its space-age looking plastic completely unconvinced.

He slapped extra lather on his face just in case. He didn't really want to shave, but Lana didn't like him with stubble, and today especially he knew she'd be disappointed if he showed up unshaven. They were spending the day in Metropolis. Chloe had freshman orientation at Met U, and after dropping her off; he and Lana were going to spend the day seeing all that Metropolis had to offer. He even saved up to take her to lunch at a nice restaurant. He smiled again, but it was stifled by a big yawn. He really needed to get this whole sleeping pattern thing figured out.

* * *

"I think we were supposed to turn back there."

"Lana, how many times have I driven to Metropolis? I think I know the way."

"Oh I know, I just heard this way was quicker..." Lana glanced down at the Thomas Road Atlas spread open on her lap.

Chloe leaned over the front seat, having been relegated to the back to give the lovebirds ample opportunity to touch and dazzle each other with cute smiles.

"If we turn around now it'll defeat the whole purpose of a short cut."

Lana seemed to consider that, while Clark waited patiently for her response, then smiled sweetly at Chloe, "You're right. Well next time we'll try it Ok Clark?"

She wrinkled her nose at him, and he took his eyes away from the road just long enough to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. Chloe settled in the back seat rolling her eyes, trying not to wonder where exactly Clark put his balls after he became human.

* * *

The three-hour trip to Metropolis was uneventful. The low hum of the wheels of Lana's mini-SUV against the paved road, and the steady stream of alt-rock tunes lowered to a respectable volume was only interrupted by the occasional giggle from the front seat, or Chloe remarking on random things to test if either of them was actually listening to her. When she only got a "That's nice" at the announcement of seeing an inside-out 3-headed calf, she picked up the Metropolis University brochure and tuned them out completely.

Clark kept one hand on the wheel and the other around Lana's shoulder, as she leaned against him, thumbing through a magazine she'd picked up when they last stopped for gas. Clark loved the feeling the warmth and closeness of Lana resting against his arm— it couldn't be more perfect. It was moments like that, that made him know he'd made the right decision two months ago. He pulled Lana closer as he turned onto the off-ramp that led to Metropolis. The shrill sound of her cell phone jarred him out of his idyllic reverie.

Clark tried not to let Lana's tone alarm him as she talked to what was obviously her Aunt Nell, whom they were all staying with that night (him on the couch, Chloe and Lana sharing the spare bedroom). He remained calm as she uttered the phrase "I can't believe I completely forgot!" and turned down University Street with Chloe holding a map, directing him to the right building. He didn't say a word as he pulled up to the Admissions building, and Lana clicked her cell phone shut, putting on her best pleading, 'I'm sorry' face.

"Clark..."

He sighed, and Chloe reached for the door, trying to make a quick, silent getaway.

"I'm really sorry, but you'll have to drop me at Nell's. I completely forgot she was planning this big surprise party for Bill next week, and I promised her I'd help her with everything this weekend."

Clark tried to keep his voice civil, but it came out a little terse. "I find it hard to believe she didn't mention it to you when she knew we were all coming this weekend."

Lana's angelic face immediately became tense and pointy. "She thought that's why we were coming, so that's probably why she didn't mention it to me. She thought I remembered. I really did forget Clark."

Chloe carefully pulled on the door handle, but stopped when she saw Clark's shoulders slump and the puppy pout forming on his lip. She fell back against the seat and waited.

He sighed more heavily this time, but pulled in his bottom lip. "Its ok...we can do this some other time."

Appeased Lana leaned over and gave him a kiss somewhere between a peck and porn, which released the Kent smile.

Chloe then leaned over the seat again. "I'm here guys, so I guess I'll see you later. Clark I'll be done around 1 if you want to meet me for lunch, and then we can hang out so you won't have to wander around all day by yourself."

He shook his head. "You said you wanted to use this time to get to know some of the other students so you wouldn't feel so lost on the first day, I'll be fine."

Lana stroked the hair that curled against the nape of his neck—he loved that. "Maybe you should come back to hang out with Chloe, then I wouldn't have to worry about you being bored all day."

"Besides Clark, I think I can manage to make new friends even with you tagging along...in fact." She eyed him carefully. "I think you may improve my chances of making new female friends."

Chloe ignored Lana, quick pointed look in her direction, and hopped out of the car.

Clark grinned. "She does have a point..."

Lana slapped him on the arm. "Very funny."

He laughed. "Like there's anyone out there who could even compare to you." He sealed the declaration with a kiss, and then leaned across Lana, poking his head out her window. "I'll see you at 1 then."

Chloe waved at him and walked towards the building. Clark shifted the car back into drive, not feeling at all the smile that was now planted on his face. It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Clark was lost, but machismo dictated that he not admit it, and he refused to pull over and look at the Thomas guide that tempted him from the passenger seat. He'd been to Metropolis many times, and there was no reason he couldn't find a building as big as the Metropolis Museum of Modern Art on his own, especially since Lana insisted it was only ten blocks in this direction. He wasn't completely sure why he was going to the museum on his own anyway. Lana was the one who raved about the photography exhibit all week, and he was going only to placate her. But since he was in college now and the boyfriend of someone who liked such things, he wanted to try and expand his interests a little. Six wrong turns and thirty minutes later, he finally saw the asymmetrical white stucco roof of the art museum jutting out against the skyline.

Upon seeing the sign that said _"Museum parking $8 for the first hour",_ Clark swerved in the opposite direction of the museum garage, and proceeded to look for street parking. Ten minutes later he returned, grumbling angrily as he retrieved the ticket from the garage machine that sealed his promise to hand over part of the money he'd saved for the special lunch with Lana. Suddenly this seemed like more trouble than it was worth. But he promised to go see the exhibit "for both of them". He sighed and made his way into the steel and stone foyer that reminded him of something from a Tim Burton nightmare.

After maneuvering his way through the confusing floor plan, he found the exhibit. The plan was to spend a few minutes there, taking enough mental notes to give Lana a good impression of what he'd seen, but he found himself pulled in by the photographs.

The exhibit was simply titled: _Photojournalism: Our World through Their Eyes._ The photographs started with scenes in everyday life in countries all over the world. Just people moving about their lives, insignificant moments snatched and immortalized, preserved for eternity—humanity at its finest. As he moved through the exhibit, the photographs became darker--visions of war, and hunger, children crying, or worse; finding moments of levity amidst desolate conditions. The one that made him stop in his tracks was an image of a man, who body was so severely starved he looked like a corpse, crawling on the ground in search of food. It was so horrific he wanted to turn away, but to see someone so emaciated still moving forward made him realize the power of hope. Before he realized it almost two hours had passed.

He walked out of the museum in a daze, and sat down on the expanse of curving steps leading to its façade. It'd been two months since he lost his powers and the newness and thrill of discovery was almost over. That fact that this was his life now, possibly forever finally began to dawn on him, and he needed to figure out what to do with it. His main goals hadn't changed, he still wanted to help people, and he needed to figure out how. Seeing those pictures and those people suffering brought that fact home, and he knew the first photos in the series represented everything he always wanted to protect. Whether or not he had his powers, he still wanted to help preserve the idea of the very life he'd been blessed with growing up on the farm.

His phone ringing (playing the tune he and Lana danced to in her Talon apartment recently) pulled him out of his thoughts. He quickly answered the phone before too many passersby could hear the strident sound of "Collide" by Howie Day. It was Chloe and a quick glance at his watch told him it was almost one o'clock.

"Hey Chloe"

"Hey Clark...what's wrong?"

Clark stood up and started walking towards the parking garage. "What? Nothing."

"Then why do you sound all sniffly."

He'd been so lost in his thoughts he didn't even realize there were tears in his eyes.

"I do not sound_ sniffly_."

"You do, are you getting a cold? You've never had one have you, believe me it won't be pleasant, just wait til you can't even..."

"I'm not getting a cold Chloe."

"Well you sound like...wait, Clark, are you sure everything is—"

"Are you finished with Orientation?"

She decided to ignore being cut off so rudely. "Yes, it just let out. I don't understand why it took them three hours to tell us to basically go to class or we'd fail, and if you become a drunken crack addict you'll be asked to leave. But anyway, I did hit it off with a couple of people who shared my disdain for the obvious and we've all decided to have lunch together at the campus café. "

"Oh...well, that's fine, I'm sure I can find something to do until you or Lana are finished."

"Clark I actually want you to join us, it'll be fun, and it'll give me someone to talk to in case they all turn out to be psychotic clingy types."

"I don't know..."

"Please Clark, I really don't want to go on my own." She knew he couldn't resist a blatant plea.

"Ok, will I be able to find the café on the map you left?"

"I'll just meet you where you dropped me off and we can find it together. Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you still wearing that plaid shirt?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh no reason..."

He sighed. "I'm not changing clothes just to hang out with people you barely know."

He looked down at his attire that had seemed perfectly fine when he left Smallville this morning, but now he realized he looked very much out of place amongst the sea of dark colors walking by.

"I know...I'm sorry Clark, had a moment of shallowness Its passed, and I wouldn't trade my Country Clark for anything. See you in about 20 minutes?"

"Sure". He stood by the car and peeled off his plaid shirt, revealing a simple dark blue tee underneath, and tossed it in the back seat.

"...So what do you bench?"

Clark shook his leg hard that had fallen asleep again from being crammed under a tiny round table that wasn't really supposed to hold five people. He'd met Chloe in under twenty minutes, since he decided his male ego could withstand consulting the Thomas Guide for directions, and she'd already figured out where the University Café was by the time he arrived, and filled him in on everyone they would be meeting on the walk over.

There was a girl, and two boys—fraternal twins. "...and Mason is really nice, he's studying journalism too, but his brother is kind of...well, you'll see. I think he's mainly tagging along because he's trying to nail Casey—she's taking commercial design..."

He nodded along, trying to pay attention, and not get completely lost in his own thoughts.

The rest where there when they arrived, and somehow he managed to get relegated to the farthest corner, pressed up against the wall, even though he was sure his legs were longer that everyone else's, including one of the twins—the one that was on a football scholarship, and was now posing that ridiculous question that Clark was sure he didn't hear correctly.

"Um, What?"

"What do you bench? I've been working more with free weights lately. Coach says it's important for my throw."

Oh. Clark guessed he thought he worked out and had found a compadre that he could talk over the principles of protein versus carbs with. He never thought much about his physique before—it just...was.

"Oh, um, I don't...bench I mean. I don't work out with weights."

The guy, Trace he thought he said his name was (was that really a name?) eyed him suspiciously and a little hostilely. "Bullshit."

Clark, taken aback just looked at him like he'd grown another head out of his bicep.

"Bull...what?"

"That's bullshit you don't work out. Your arms are pretty big."

Clark tried to smile, because he really wanted to hit him, and drag Chloe out of there and go see if Lana needed help at her Aunt's place. "I work on a farm, so that keeps me in shape."

Trace leaned back in his chair eyeing him, flexing his arms as he folded them across his expansive chest. "Oh yeah, that works huh? That your summer job or something?"

"No, its my family's farm, its where I grew up."

He laughed openly now. "You're shitting me?"

His twin brother, who was the same height, but about forty pounds lighter in muscle, looked over at Clark apologetically. Everyone was suddenly listening to their conversation, and Clark could feel his cheeks getting redder, from a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

Clark just looked at him as coldly as he could manage. "No, I'm not _shitting_ you. This is Kansas, you may see a farm or two."

Trace just laughed harder, slapping Clark on the arm in mock affection. "Whoa, relax. We're from outside Chicago, and I just don't meet many real live farm boys is all. No offense, guy."

Clark sat up taller in his chair, narrowed his eyes and was about to inform him all about what bailing hay all day can do for one's punching ability, when he felt a gentle hand on his forearm. He looked over at Chloe and she was giving him her best _I'm so sorry, but please don't make this any worse than it is_ - look, so he just picked up his Coke and sipped it angrily, promising not to utter another word to jockstar.

Of course he just zeroed in on his discomfort and in true form decided to exploit it. "Awww..come on, don't be mad. Let me make it up to you, look I'll buy you a drink when we all go out tonight."

Casey chimed in, scooting her chair away from Trace, who kept getting dangerously close to her. "Oh, I forgot to mention, we were talking about it before you guys came. My brother is working at this new club on the west side tonight and says he'll get us in if we show up. He said I could bring anyone, so you're both welcome to come." She looked pointedly at Clark, which garnered a threatening look from Trace. There was no way he was going, and he didn't even have to entertain the idea because Lana would never want to go either. And he was about to declare just that, when Chloe surprised them both and said they'd love to go.

"What?"

"Come on Clark it'll be fun, and I'm sure we can both talk Lana into going." Clark couldn't help but notice that her eyes kept drifting over to Mason, who smiled at her appreciatively. Great, Lana and her level-headedness about underage drinking was now his only hope.

Casey arched an eyebrow at him. "Who's Lana?"

"Lana's my girlfriend."

Casey slumped a little further down in her seat. "Oh."

Trace practically beamed, and pushed his chair closer to Casey's "Oh yeah? So farmboy's got himself a girlfriend. I bet she's really good at milking cows huh?" He punched Clark in the arm and winked hard. Nope, there was absolutely no way he was spending an evening with _this_ guy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: the good with the bad**

Well the universe is a cruel little place. What else could explain how Lana hadn't taken much convincing at all, in fact she seemed to be excited at the very idea. She was completely frazzled when they finally arrived. Clark had forgotten how overbearing Nell could be. So basically Lana was up for anything that allowed her to be away from her Aunt, who was in full organizing mode, for several hours. Worse, she and Chloe dragged him down to Village district and made him purchase a black tee that he swore was much too tight. He relented when he saw the way Lana kept eyeing him in it.

So now he stood outside a club that to him looked like nothing more than a giant warehouse on the edge of town. If it weren't for the black door with the name of the club imprinted in small letters on it, and the swell of people spilling out into the street, you'd just think you made a wrong turn. The music pulsed from inside, making the ground beneath them vibrate with every bass beat. Clark felt like he'd just been pushed into the Twilight Zone, where everyone was ten times cooler than him and he was a sacrificial lamb, and the black lights in the club would reveal that he really wore flannel underneath the black tee that would not stop creeping up his abdomen.

"Stop pulling on it, you'll stretch it." Chloe slapped his hand.

"That's the idea."

She gave him an exasperated look, while continuing to search the crowd for the twins and Casey. "You're a very good-looking guy Clark, stop pretending you're not."

He glared at her. "That's not the point.."

She sighed. "Look, even Lana loved your outfit, so would you please relax and enjoy being hot for once?"

"Chloe.."

"Enough Clark...Oh look, there they are." She pulled him to catch up with the others who were standing near the entrance waving wildly. He stole a glance at his cell phone again. Lana got roped into running a last minute errand for Nell and said she would call when she was on her way back. He really didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't let Chloe meet up with people she barely knew on her own, and there was no talking either of them out of going. He decided to just grit his teeth and say as little as possible to the .

"Well I see farmboy decided to go all casual." His fake smile faltered just a little, and Clark smirked—maybe he should take Chloe's advice. Trace wore a dark silk button down and black jeans with some strange sparkly belt, though most people in line were dressed more like Clark.

Chloe went to join Mason, and Casey ushered them all towards her brother who was working the door. She grabbed Clark's arm loosely and whispered to him. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"She'll be here later, she'll call when she gets here. Should I just come back outside and meet her?"

Casey didn't respond, she just hugged her brother, and he swept back the rope and let them all in.

* * *

Clubs are very loud, and crowded, and hot, those were the only things registering in Clark's brain as they threaded their way through the crowded room. Sweaty flesh and fabric brushed up against him as he made his way to the clearing near the bar, with Trace leading the way. Casey was holding his hand, and Mason had his hands around Chloe's waist guiding her forward. He felt like the bass drum was inside of his head pounding away, and he couldn't hear anything Trace kept yelling back in their general direction. Finally he felt a rush of cool air as they made it away from the dance floor. Clark sought out the bar and leaned against it, trying to make sense of his surroundings. For this vantage the bodies writhing on the dance floor looked like a giant mass of energy moving in unison. He envied their freedom, and for a moment he wished he could shed his skin and move with such abandonment.

"You going out there?"

He turned to see Casey leaning next to him. He shook his head and smiled.

"You sure? I bet you're a great dancer."

He laughed a little. "That wouldn't be a safe bet."

Casey went to move in closer, but Trace suddenly appeared, squeezing himself in between them.

"Come on Casey, all Kent here probably knows is line dancing, dance with me instead."

Casey gave him a very annoyed, exasperated look. "Um..I'm going to find the ladies room...I'll be back." She squeezed her way past them and disappeared into the crowd.

Trace looked after her a little dumbfounded, then just shrugged, and slapped Clark on the back. Clark kept his fists clenched at his side.

"So farm-boy I promised to buy you a drink."

"Its ok, I don't drink."

"Not even beer?" Clark shook his head. It was bad enough Chloe had deserted him to dance with Mason; he wasn't in the mood to put up with Trace too. Clark thought maybe he could freeze him out and he'd get the picture and leave him alone, but subtlety was lost on him.

"Let me buy you something cold to drink then, a promise is a promise, and I don't go back on my word."

"Fine."

Trace went to clap him on the back again, but Clark moved this time, giving him a sharp look. He squeezed his fists tighter together, willing them to behave.

Trace seemed to take the hint, and tried to laugh. He then turned abruptly away from Clark, calling the bartender over to order an iced tea. Then he smirked at Clark and walked away.

Clark took the tall cool glass when the bartender handed it to him. He rested the glass against his forehead for a moment—the crowd was pushing closer and the heat was almost oppressive. He downed the tea in one long chug and nearly choked. It burned when it hit his throat and he knew something was very very wrong. He looked at his empty glass with the lemon wedge sitting dejectedly at the bottom. It looked like iced tea, but iced tea doesn't burn his throat—or maybe it does if his mother didn't make it?

He asked the bartender to bring him a cold water, and sat down on the stool. The ice tea wasn't helping to cool him off; in fact it seemed to make things worse. He tugged at his shirt collar, wondering why it was suddenly one hundred degrees in there. Maybe he should go outside, it was much cooler out there, he just needed to find Chloe and tell her. He got off the stool and the room suddenly tilted, making him grab the bar to keep from falling.

"Whoa, go easy guy, those things are potent. I've never seen anyone chug a Long Island like that before. You should probably wait before you order another."

Long Island? What was he…Oh God! Clark had a vague memory of drinking a Long Island Iced Tea during his summer of hedonism two years ago on a dare, except then he had his powers then and alcohol had no effect on him. But now...he felt…well he felt good, and woozy, and his head was spinning and he was really going to kill Trace as soon he could feel his feet.

He just needed to concentrate and try his best to walk in a straight line. Chloe was out there somewhere, or maybe he could find Casey. What if he was drunk? But he couldn't be drunk, one drink didn't make you drunk, but he sure felt like how he'd seen lots of drunken people look. Clark shook his head hard, there had to be a way to get control of the situation. Just because he drank alcohol didn't mean he had to give into its affects—mind over matter, he just had to focus and he'd be fine. Walking really was hard. He started to push his way through the throng of people dancing wildly, when he stumbled, almost falling to the ground, where he'd surely be trampled to death.

Before he could make contact with the spinning floor, someone grabbed his arm tightly.

"Watch it handsome, don't fall." He turned to see a very attractive woman holding on to him with both hands. He should probably say thank you, but his tongue couldn't seem to form the simple phrase

"Let me help you." She steered him away from the crowd, and ordered him to sit back down on the barstool. "Now where were you going? Do you want to dance?"

Clark shook his head, which caused him to get even dizzier. "No…I just...I need to find Chloe."

She smiled at him. She was really very close he thought. "Is Chloe your girlfriend?"

"No, we're just friends, she would like more, but I just don't feel that way, but she's been a good.." Why was he talking so much?

She just nodded, laughing softly in a way that he found really very cute. He grinned at her, knowing he probably looked like an idiot.

"Well let's get you somewhere more comfortable ok?" She helped him step off the stool, and led him towards the back of the club.

He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he should shouldn't be going off with some woman he didn't know, because he had a girlfriend, who even if she wasn't there was still his girlfriend, and she'd be pissed if she knew some gorgeous woman in a very shimmery top, that he couldn't seem to keep from touching, was taking him who knows where. But his feet wouldn't listen—they definitely wanted to follow her because they liked the way her long dark hair swung against her naked back catching the light.

"Where are we going?"

"Some place away from all that activity, where we can relax."

He looked down at his feet and commanded them to stop. "I should really find my friends..."

"Your friends will be there." She grabbed hold of his arm, as they reached a roped off area. A very large man dressed in black, surpassing Clark's height by two inches easily, let them in with a slight nod. His feet clearly had a mind of their own.

Suddenly they were plunged into an even darker world, full of dim lights and overstuffed velvet. The music inside the smaller room was mellow and played at a low hum; it was like the rest of the club didn't exist. He settled back on one of the soft plush sofas, loving the weightless feeling of his body as he leaned his head back to look at the lights twinkling against the black ceiling. He wasn't sure when he developed this fascination with lights exactly.

He felt pressure against his thigh and he turned to find the gorgeous woman with the shimmery shirt and pretty dark hair—he really should ask her name—leaning over him, placing a drink in his hand.

"Oh...no I really...I shouldn't...", as he reached to take it from her.

But his hand didn't listen any better than his feet, as it tilted the glass to his lips. The sweet liquid slipped down his throat, not burning at all this time, and he smiled at the nice warm feeling in his stomach.

"What's your name?"

She ran a hand along his cheek. "It doesn't matter. You're very pretty you know. My friend is going to just love you. I really hit the jackpot tonight"

He tried to shake his head, but it just wobbled loosely on his neck. "Your friend?"

A faint warning buzzer went off in his head, but he ignored it and took another long gulp of his drink. Maybe roped off dark rooms were supposed to spin, he wasn't sure. His feet should really let him take control this time. He tried to get up. Air...air was probably what he needed. In movies they always gave the drunk people air, or was it water?

She smiled "Now where exactly are you running off to?" She pushed him back down, which made the room swim violently, and she leaned over him, parting his lips with her tongue.

"Maybe I need to give you a reason to stay."

The alarms went off in his head again, this time louder, sounding very much like "Lana!"—but none of his body parts were cooperating, and his mouth moved against hers, opening wider to accept her tongue. He wanted to move when he felt the zipper on his jeans being pulled down, he really did, but she pressed her leg against his and slipped her hand inside and her mouth worked against his throat. His whole body flushed hot, and he knew he needed to tell her to stop, but it felt incredible as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through him. He leaned his head back, trying to gain some focus, but it was pointless, he couldn't even feel his head anymore.

"Clark?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3 Out of Place**

There was nothing like a cold slap of reality to put things into perspective. The hand quickly retreated and he felt the weight lift off his thighs.

"Lex! Well what do you think? I couldn't have done better if I ordered him."

Lex? What was Lex doing here? Wait, he hated Lex didn't he? He tried to sneer at him but it got lost in a giggle. There he was in the back of some club, lounging on a couch with an undone zipper and a raging hard on, and Lex was staring at him like he had three heads. Maybe he did. The thought of that made him laugh harder, because he felt like if he didn't laugh he may burst into tears from embarrassment and that would be so much worse. Apparently drinking made you emotional too.

"Clark, are you drunk?"

Clark tried to shake his head 'no' but it came out in a half-nod. "I am Lex, ...I think maybe I am."

"How did you even get in? Lex turned sharply to the girl. "Do you get him this way?"

She looked at Lex offended. "I found him like that by the bar. What's wrong? He's perfect."

Perfect for what?

"He'll get me thrown in jail is what's wrong."

The girl eyed him. "He looks old enough to me."

"Well he's not, trust me. Help me get him up."

The girl helped Lex pull Clark into a standing position. Clark teetered on unstable feet for a moment then pulled away from them, stumbling slightly, but managed to catch himself.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help, and I'm old enough, though I'm not perfect...I just need to find Chloe."

Lex grabbed his arm again. "You're coming with me, and then I'm going to call and have Chloe and whoever else is underage escorted out of here. Then you will tell me which guard let you in. I'm part owner of this club, and I don't need any trouble."

Lex flipped open his cell phone and barked orders to have the car brought around, keeping a tight hold on Clark. The girl smiled. "So you are taking him home, I knew when I saw him you wouldn't be able to resist him."

"I am taking him with me—alone."

The girl pouted. "I found him for you, that's completely unfair to leave me out."

Clark tried unsuccessfully to pull away from Lex. "Um...what are you guys talking about?"

Lex looked at her like she was crossing some sort of line. She got quiet. "I'm taking him home to let him sleep it off. I'll catch up with you later."

Clark was suddenly aware he was being dragged off by Lex—this couldn't be a good thing. "Lex…listen, I just...I need some air, then I need to find everyone else, especially that ass Trace, I'm going to really hurt him…and…Oh god Lana, Lana is supposed to call..."

Lex just let him ramble and pushed him into the waiting car. "Give me your cell phone Clark."

Clark just looked at him, he really wished his head would stay still, alcohol seemed to make your whole body feel like rubber, and he didn't feel all that well anymore. Lex just shoved his hand in Clark's pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Hey...what are you...?"

Lex scrolled his phone list until he found Chloe's number.

"Chloe? It's Lex. I want you and your friends out of the club within two minutes or you'll be escorted out by the police. Clark is with me, I'm taking him to the penthouse to sober up. When he's sober he'll call you." He hung up without waiting for an answer.

Chloe stared at her phone and several questions assaulted her brain at once. How did Lex know they were there, why is Clark with Lex and more importantly how did Clark get drunk? She dialed Lana quickly.

"Lana, listen we're leaving, don't come here...and I think Clark may be in trouble..."

* * *

Clark rubbed his temples hard. He was definitely tired of being drunk; the novelty had worn off around the time Lex interrupted whatever that woman was doing to him. Now he just wanted to sleep—sleep for a really long time in his bed, under his plaid comforter. But instead he was in a limo with Lex of all people probably being taken to the docks to be drowned or worse.

"Can I have my cell phone back?" Maybe if he was thrown in the Metropolis River he could at least call for help. Alcohol also made you stupid he noted.

Lex handed him his phone wordlessly.

"Thanks..."

"Do you mind telling me what you were doing at a nightclub in Metropolis?"

Clark smirked. "Partying?" he really hoped he wouldn't burst into another fit of giggles.

"And how did you get in?"

He looked at Lex defiantly. "Through the door."

Lex sighed. "It's not like I won't find out who let you in Clark."

Clark rolled his eyes. "What do you care Lex, really? I'm sure we're not the first kids to sneak into a club. Don't you have some third world country to take over or something? Some kittens to murder?"

Wow, he was really a little mean when he drank. Lex didn't say another word after that last remark, keeping his gaze strictly on the city passing by the window. Clark regretted what he said, or he thought he should regret it. Sober-Clark would regret it, but drunk- Clark wasn't really sure he did.

Clark was a little surprised, but still grateful when they arrived and parked at Luthorcorp Towers and not Pier 6. He still had no intention of going up to the Penthouse where he was sure Lex would enact his nefarious plan, but he thought there was probably a really nice soft couch up there and maybe he'd be allowed to sit, or even nap before the torturing commenced.

But Lex did not live up to his villainious reputation. He not only let him sit on the really soft (down maybe?) sofa, he brought him a nice tall glass of water, which Clark guzzled greedily. An act he regretted when his stomach lurched. He grabbed his stomach and moaned.

"Don't throw up on my new floors please."

Alcohol really was the devil. "I'm not going to throw up...I just don't feel very well."

"The bathroom is down the hall on the left."

"I'm not...I just...I need to lie down." Lex nodded, indicating the couch and walked down the hall, he guessed to bring back the torture instruments, but Clark was fast asleep before he could see if he was right.

* * *

When he awoke an hour later, there was something large sitting on his head, and something dead had crawled inside his stomach. He slowly pulled himself to a sitting position, holding his head for fear it would fall off his neck. He silently vowed never to as so much use rubbing alcohol again.

"Feeling better?"

Clark looked up to see Lex standing at the edge of the room watching him impassively.

Clark just mumbled. "No."

"Go to the bathroom and throw up, trust me, you'll feel better."

Clark just grimaced, he really didn't see how throwing up would make him feel better.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

Lex smirked. "A little."

Clark stood up, testing his equilibrium. He guessed he could make it down the hall without falling. "Um, I guess I should thank you..."

Lex nodded. "Yes you should, especially since I didn't torture you or whatever else you were mumbling about."

Clark winced. "I'm sorry Lex, I didn't mean all of that. We haven't been on the best terms...and well, I've never drank before."

Lex walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink, which Clark was positive was meant to mock him. "I guessed that too. Are you having a late rebellious stage?"

"No, just a stupid stage." Clark grabbed his stomach as it did a very impressive flip.

"Go make yourself sick, and I'll get you some ginger ale."

He nodded, steadying himself against the wall to begin his slow trek down the hall. He paused for a moment, turning back to face Lex—he had to ask.

"Why did you help me?"

Lex just shrugged. "We were friends once, but mainly because of a weakness of mine."

Clark looked puzzled, "What's that?"

"I don't like to see a lamb be thrown to the wolves, and you drunk at a club," He gave him a once-over, "... dressed like that—you didn't stand a chance."

Clark blushed a little at the implication, and that brought to mind something else he remembered about earlier that evening but he decided that needed to be addressed on a less queasy stomach.

Trace was so dead; he was really going to kill him, in a slow painful way. He sat on the cold marble tile thinking of different ways of making Trace suffer the way he had just suffered while expelling his intestines and surely a lung into Lex's very impressive toilet.

He finally emerged from the bathroom after washing his face and dousing his mouth in excessive amounts of mouthwash. As promised, a ginger ale sat waiting on the end table for him. He sipped it slowly and sank into an armchair. Lex sat across from him fiddling with his Blackberry doing a very good job of pretending Clark wasn't there.

His phone rumbled in his pocket; he'd forgotten to turn the ringer back on. It was Chloe sounding very frantic. He told her he was fine and with Lex, and he'd take a cab so they wouldn't have to drive and pick him up. She insisted they come and get him, saying Lana was beside herself.

"Did you really get drunk?"

Clark groaned. "Yes."

"And I missed it!"

"Thanks Chloe."

"Ok, Lana wants to talk to you."

She put Lana on the phone, and he assured her several times that he was fine, trying not to get angry at the way she kept going on about how he was the last person she expected to get wasted at a club. When he finally hung up he was very very tired.

He closed his eyes, trying to sink deeper into the soft cushions.

"Are they on their way?"

Clark nodded, not opening his eyes. "I can't thank you enough Lex, really. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't gotten me out of there."

Lex didn't look up from his Blackberry. "Anytime Clark, and don't worry, you can go back to hating me tomorrow."

"I don't hate you Lex...I don't hate anyone."

Lex looked up. "But we'll never be friends again."

He said it so matter-of-factly that Clark felt a small pang in his chest. "Maybe we can...one day..."

"I'll never be the person you need me to be."

Clark went to protest, but he knew he was right, so he kept silent. "Oh,..Lex, I was going to ask you about...that girl..."

Lex smirked a little. "The less said about that the better. I'm only sorry you got mixed up in it."

Clark grinned. "Well...it wasn't all bad."

Lex almost laughed, but his house phone rang announcing Chloe and Lana in the lobby. Clark stood up to leave, feeling very awkward all of a sudden. It was the longest, most civil conversation he and Lex had in months, and part of him wanted to prolong the moment. But he knew things didn't change over one night and one rescue. He walked to the door, and turned before he opened it.

"Lex?"

Lex looked up at him.

"I really don't hate you."

"I know Clark."

**Part 4: Reality (Bites)**

It's funny how fast things change in just a few weeks. Clark had gone back to Nell's that night and slept until noon the next day. By afternoon he saw the humor in what happened and regaled Chloe and Lana with the story of his one night of debauchery (minus the woman of course) on the drive back to Smallville. He didn't even feel like killing Trace anymore—maybe just maim him a little. Now like countless other people his age, he had a drunken tale of woe, and he'd always cherish it because he knew it would never happen again.

The very next week Lex did something that made him so angry he went to the mansion in a rage and punched him in the jaw. That moment solidified that everything that had ever been between them was over. That moment changed them both with such a finality that neither could ever come back from.

Just a couple of weeks after that he learned the true pain of being human when a bullet from a deranged and disillusioned boy ripped through his chest, tearing a hole in his lungs. He'd never felt so vulnerable and terrified in his life as he lay on the asphalt in the bright morning sun with blood seeping from a gaping hole in his back. He died that day in more ways that one.

He returned to his body, fully restored and no longer human. He wanted it to be a relief. He was himself again, as he had always been. But he would forever miss the way Lana's hair felt when it brushed against his skin still slick with sweat after they made love; how all the muscles in his arms and back ached after he and his father, sweating side by side, worked in the fields. Or the way the wind chilled against his skin at night. He supposed he should be grateful he was able to experience the one thing he wanted his whole life, even if it was for just a short while. Now he understood how fragile their flesh and bones really were.

But the thing that made him sad, especially when he looked at Lana, who drifted away a little more each day, was that now he truly understood how different he was from them in ways he had no way of understanding before.

And though he'd always carry the pain of knowing he'd never be one of them, he could protect them, and love them, and in his own way, he'd always belong to them.

The end


End file.
